Lo! I'm back. I won't be surprised to be greeted by silence... I have been away for that long

Okay I just finished up the Second Chapter of Wednesday after a gazillion years. Not my personal favourite chapter out of those I have done so far, but I liked the context its been set. I always imagined Oliver and Katie to have this sort of meeting and having meaningless discussions. Lol. Maybe I'm going mad.

Enjoy!

Chapter Two- Strawberry

Tonight was a particularly slow one, or at least for Puddlemere. They had been playing Warwick Wonders at the King's Stadium, a friendly match between the two Quidditch teams. Oliver usually didn't mind playing against the minor league teams—they sometimes gave excellent pointers despite the fact that his team usually wins—but this team was… Oliver could only describe it as feeble. Their dismal playing made it too easy for them to score.

Oliver sighed as he watched the Warwick Wonders chaser accidentally dropped the Quaffle again. His teammate Lance Seymour expertly caught it from below, flying off to the other side of the pitch.

At that very moment a fellow team mate robed in blue flew beside him. It was Matt Springs. He flashed Oliver a wide grin.

"Almost as bad as the Eastside players," he observed, looking half-amused, half-bored.

"Don't you have some Bludgers to beat?"

"Nope," He replied cheerfully, his grin even wider.

"You do realise I am your captain." Oliver snorted, but grinned along infectiously. "Should you be telling me this in a middle of a match?"

"You wouldn't kick me off," He said confidently. "You love me too much, Wood."

"At least pretend to play," He instructed.

Matt rolled his eyes, but zoomed off on his broom, occasionally pulling a somersault. Typical Matt style, of course.

Oliver, in honest, hadn't been paying too much attention on the match either. He had been trying to recite Quidditch through the Ages backwards. A futile attempt, he supposed, in trying to keep himself awake.

He shook his head, allowing the cool crisp air of the evening clear his head. He tried to concentrate, but found again that he couldn't. No one from the opposing team even came near him in the past fifteen minutes.

From the corner of his eye he saw his seeker, Leah Hathaway, stifled a yawn as she searched intensively for the Snitch. He wished that she could quickly snatch that Golden Snitch—they couldn't wait for the match to be over.

Oliver searched the pitch for another distraction, until his brown eyes finally landed on a Warwick player nearby.

The Beater appeared to be having trouble with his bat, or perhaps he was really just a poor player. His aim had been off the first few times, and Oliver could tell he was getting more nervous with each missed swing. A first time player most likely, Oliver guessed, watching as the skinny Beater accidentally drop his bat.

His fifth try was a success. Oliver watched as the nervous Beater braced himself before hitting the black ball. This time his aim was true—the bludger went soaring fast and high in the air.

The beater—Jasper was it?—let out a whoop, evidently pleased with his success. Oliver admitted he would have been impressed if not for one very unpleasant fact: Jasper's bat was flung out of his hands from the impact. Said bat went flinging in the air as well, and was heading towards Oliver.

It took approximately two seconds for the bat to collide into the Puddlemere United Keeper's face. Something smashed his shoulder, and the impact was shattering. A loud resounding crack rang through the stadium.

"Uh oh," Oliver muttered before everything went blank.

He was awake again within five minutes. His eyes flew open as he wondered where he was. He found himself looking up into the night sky. The stars twinkled back at him. It was a clear night. He saw a silhouette flew past. It was definitely Matt. His flashy style was recognisable.

Suddenly he realised what had happened.

"Damn," Oliver swore silently, muttering. He had been knocked out from the game.

"I'll say."

The voice was familiar and laughing. Oliver sat up quickly, frowning, trying to locate the owner of the voice. A rush of blood ran through his head. His vision blurred and he groaned.

The figure moved in front of him, and through his messed-up vision he saw a kaleidoscope of pretty faces and bright green eyes. He waited a while for his vision to focus. Someone was smiling at him. Someone too familiar.

"Serves you right for sitting up too fast," Katie Bell told him, smirking. "Painful, isn't it?"

"Bell?" he said, unsure. He wasn't dreaming. She was standing there, in flesh. The familiar scent of something light and citrus was clearly hers. He didn't know anyone else who smelt like her—like fruits and heaven and everything delightful.

"Nice to see you again too, Wood," she laughed.

"What are you doing here?" He blurted, entirely forgetting his manners again.

Katie sighed as she pointed to something on her robes. This time he finally took in the shiny official badge pinned on it.

"You seem to forget that I volunteer here as Healer."

"I haven't forgotten." He was murmuring now.

"Then you shouldn't be surprised. I'm going to dress your wounds now."

The brunette dangled a roll of white gauze and a bottle of Murtlap Essence it front of his face. Before he could say anything she began working on his wound, dabbing it lightly. It did not hurt at all.

"But you are here!" He exclaimed, still agog.

"I am."

"You really are here," Oliver repeated to himself, his head finally starting to clear up.

"Strange. You seem only too eager to see me again when we met last time," Katie smirked again.

"I was," He added, grinning now, as he eyed her pale blue robes with the Healer badge pinned on it. "I told you I would see you down here one day."

"I didn't realise it was going to be so soon."

"Lucky you then," he chuckled.

"I hardly call this luck," she scoffed, unable to hide a smile.

"I would prefer to see you when half of my face isn't bloodied up," Oliver grimaced at the thought. It took him another second to realised he was at the side of the stadium, on a stretcher. "Am I out of the game?"

"Sure you are. Did you honestly expect to be up in the air so soon again?" She asked, her eyebrows arching as she continued to dab liberal amounts of ointment on him.

Oliver thought about it.

"Yes. But I'm relieved I'm here instead." The game had been a disaster.

Katie was looking at him, her eyebrows still arched.

"It's get dull when you have nothing to do but guard an empty goalpost," He explained unhappily, rolling his eyes a little. "And that's what I have been doing for the past half hour."

Katie laughed, her eyes sparkling. "I know what you mean. I'm surprised that you haven't fallen asleep waiting for them. "She smoothed her dark curls which unravelled from its knot on her head. She looked messy. Like a beautiful mess.

The conversation suddenly stopped as she turned away from him, and walked towards the first aid table nearby. She was suddenly preoccupied with searching for medication. Oliver didn't like this—she was treating him with a professional air.

"So you weren't lying about being a volunteer here," he said conversationally as he watched her meddle with a first aid box, pulling out all sorts of powder and potions. Another Healer witch was dozing off in the corner.

"Why would you think that I lied to you?"

"Katie Bell, you know better than I do that Charms isn't your best subject," He said deadpanned. He looked at his shoulder, surprised to find it nicely healed and bandaged.

"The confidence you have in me is inspiring," she commented dryly, catching his shocked expression. "Besides, have I ever done a bad Charm on you?" She asked innocently.

"Yes," Oliver said without blinking.

"It was a long time ago!" She retorted playfully.

"Not long enough for me to forget what happened," he glared. "I lost a limb!"

"Really?" Katie chimed brightly. "Oh, look. Your team scored."

Oliver glanced up. True enough, Puddlemere had just gained another ten points.

"Hardly surprising," He scoffed. "We are up by merely two hundred points."

"Getting conceited, Wood?"

"My team is always the best. Even in Hogwarts." He said proudly.

"Can't disagree with that." The corner of her lips twitched. "After all, I was the chaser in your team."

"Getting conceited, Bell?"

"I have every right to."

His attention went back to the game for a moment. "Look at their chasers. They can't even score properly!" He exclaimed, making wild agitated gestures. The movements caused him some pain, but he did not show it.

"You look better," Katie observed. "Perhaps I should send you back to the game."

"Please don't." He shuddered at the thought of returning to the dull game.

"I will try not to." Katie said as she finished up dressing his wound, and stood back to admire her handiwork. "Nice, isn't it?"

"Yes, unexpectedly."

"I dare say you find the ground more preferable to being in the air now."

"I do."

"Of course."

"Besides," he added meaningfully, completely oblivious about the game. "I'd rather be here with you."

Oliver saw her looked up from his dressings, a highly amused expression on her pretty face. Katie Bell sat down on his stretcher with him, sprawled out beside him. She tilted her head, her green eyes staring intently at him.

"What do you want, Wood?" She asked with a wicked smile.

He grinned, leaning back comfortably against the stadium's wall. "You know me well."

"So what do you want?" Katie asked, settling comfortably beside Oliver.

"Many things," Oliver replied. "The first of which is to question the highly superior look on your face right now."

"You wouldn't like the answer," She laughed.

"I would still like one. I hate not knowing," He said, raising his brow questioningly.

"I'm merely enjoying the power of my position right now," she said smugly. "After years of getting ordered around on the Quidditch pitch, it's nice to boss the Captain who made my social life almost non-existent."

"You make me sound like a tyrant."

"You are."

"Am not!" Oliver insisted, shaking his head.

"No wonder you like to boss us around so much," Katie smiled. "The power is exhilarating. It's making me giddy."

He scowled at the bemused girl. "You are exaggerating."

"Go find out yourself," She told him, trying to tuck her hair away from her line of vision.

"I don't need to. I have been nice!"

"Angelina and Alicia would be the first to testify against that statement."

"Unreliable witnesses," He chuckled as he helped her pull back one of her curls. "Both have the tendency to dramatize."

"The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team does," she paused. "Except Harry. And me."

"You?" He said incredulously.

"You don't see me mock-impaling myself whenever there is Quidditch practice like the Weasleys."

"Sure," He smiled widely. "You are just the one doing lousy imitations of me having panic attacks."

"It was a mere re-enactment of your pre-Quidditch pep talk." She sniffed. "I was doing accurate portrayal."

"I'm not the one who abandoned everyone else three years ago by zooming off somewhere," he said, grinning. Including me, he silently added.

"Is running away dramatic?" She said thoughtfully.

"In my books, yes."

"That was a long time ago. I can't even recall which day was it when I left. " Katie smiled, looking at him now. "Besides, I merely left for a while."

"Sure. No notes and letters, that's all."

"Doesn't the occasional postcard to Angelina and Alicia count?" She inquired.

"Define occasional."

"Once every two months," she said sheepishly. Oliver smirked.

"There you go," he said triumphantly.

Oliver paused for a while and he watched her watch the game absently. Another of Puddlemer's chaser scored. All of a sudden he hoped Leah wouldn't find the Snitch too quickly. Another five hours would be good.

"So," He said in a conversational tone. "Where did you go?"

"Ha!"

His cheek burned "Ha what?"

Katie smiled coyly, victory clear in her voice. "I knew you couldn't resist asking."

"So I was curious," he admitted. "So sue me."

"You are itching to know." It was a statement, not a question.

"I'm writhing in pain already. I told you I hate not knowing. So where?"

She smiled, deciding not to play around with him too much. "Italy. Rome."

"Why there?"

"I couldn't resist ice cream."

Oliver burst into booming laughter.

"What!" She cried defensively. "It's true."

He was still shaking, tears in his eyes. "I know it's true. That's why I'm laughing."

"I have a weakness for gelatos."

"Tried many flavours?" He questioned politely, trying to make amends.

"Two hundred and fifty three out of two hundred and fifty-four."

"All except one?" He asked.

"Peanut butter," she replied, as if it was obvious.

"You don't like them," Oliver recalled, remembering her favourite choice of spreads for breakfast.

"That's right."

"So what's your favourite flavour?" He asked curiously.

She thought for a while. "Strawberry."

"Incredible." She saw him shake his head in amazement.

"What is?"

"Let me get this straight," He said, amazed. "You went all the way to Italy to eat ice cream which comes in a gazillion different flavours. And now you return telling me your favourite one is those that you can get across the street."

"That sounds about right," She smiled.

"You are unbelievable."

"What's yours then?"

He didn't hesitate.

"Strawberry," he grinned.

"Seriously?" Katie asked. He nodded.

"I have three tubs at home. What did you expect me to say?" He said, feeling laughter bubbling in him. His injury barely bothered him.

"I guess Puddlemere's Oliver Wood would go for something fancier," she said with a shrug.

"Like what?" He asked curiously.

She tried to think. "Firewhiskey?"

"Sorry Bell. Those are clearly your drug," He chuckled. "I'm more into the good-old-fashioned strawberry type."

"No one else likes strawberry, though. They say it's annoyingly sweet."

"It's creamy with just the right dose of sugar!" He said, offended.

"Exactly!" She nodded furiously in agreement.

"There must be someone else who likes strawberry," He said disbelievingly. "Ange?"

"She's a one scoop Vanilla girl."

"Nice description. Alicia?"

"Macademia nut with toffee. The Weasleys are partial to anything with chocolate in it. Bet you won't know Luna's favourite."

"Krumple-skin?"

"No."

"Primplies with butterscotch."

"Nice one," she said smiling. "But it's cherry."

"Really?" Oliver said, shocked. "But it's so…" He tried to search for a word.

"Normal?" Katie offered

"Yeah."

"Who would have guessed?" She said, beaming. "What's your team's favourite? Spill."

"Matt likes lemon sorbet. Leah's changes everyday. The rest are just content to eat a bowl with twenty different flavours."

"This is totally fascinating," Katie said with amusement. "I can imagine Quibbler's next headline: Puddlemere United Players' Favourite Ice Cream Flavours: An in depth analysis on what it means."

"You will owe me a cone then. It will be a bestseller."

"Unless I print an exclusive with you."

"You can have it right now. Perhaps you can analyse our favourite type of cookies as well."

"I would love to," She said with a dazzling smile, standing up. "But unfortunately for you, the game is over and I'm pretty sure your team mates would like to make fun of your injury right now. We better postpone it to next time."

Oliver looked up. The game, he realized, was over. Leah Hathaway was just twenty feet away from him on the Pitch, high-fiving with Matt as she twirled the Snitch in between her fingers. Both of them have a look of relief on their face, evidently glad it was over.

"I will see you around," Katie said, waving goodbye. He cleared his throat.

"Wednesday," He blurted suddenly. "Wednesday was the day you left."

She stopped there for a moment, contemplating him. But then she turned, with a slight smile and she started to walk off.

"I remember," She told him. "And today's a Wednesday too."

And then, Oliver watched as she disappeared into the crowd of people, her lovely silhouette almost gone. He shook his head with a smile on his face.

"Who's that, mate?" Matt appeared by his side, curiously looking in the direction his teammate was staring at. He was sweating still from the Quidditch game. "She's pretty."

"I think so too."

"Any chance you got her name?" Matt asked, looking at Oliver's face

"I would give it to you over my dead body. She's doesn't like lemon sorbet." He said without missing a beat.

Matt stared at him. "You are mad."

"I am," Oliver replied. "About her."

Okay I realise this chapter might sound a bit rushed but I totally have no idea how to re-do it. But I really liked the ice cream part-- the power of meaningless banter lol.

I'm a little miffed right now because I realised I lost half of my new Tea Leaves and Coffee which I was intending to post next week. I have to totally rewrite it again. Damn! Revenge of technology I guess, because I abuse my computer so much.

PLEASE REVIEW!